


What Do You Want?

by awilliamson81



Category: daredevil - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Sex Club, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 13:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6659914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awilliamson81/pseuds/awilliamson81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's the only person he trusts and he needs to do some undercover work. This is not something he's used to doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do You Want?

**Author's Note:**

> This idea popped into my head. I hope you enjoy!  
> ~Amanda (punishpage on tumblr)

He needs her.

To clarify, he needs to use her.

She's the only person he trusts and he needs to do some undercover work. This is not something he's used to doing.

There's an adult club - a sex club, offering minors as a 'specialty.'

He wants to take down every piece of shit involved.

He needs Karen for this because singles are not allowed entrance. Sure, he could bring this to Matt, but he's so damn high and mighty his stomach couldn't take it. Also, he's not sure how far this night will have to go and the thought of that with Matt makes his stomach turn.

Now, with Miss Karen Page he thinks he'll be alright.

*******

"What the hell do you wear to a sex club?" She asks her closet. Unfortunately, it does not answer.

She has tight dresses, lingerie, and skirts. All of these qualify for "sexy" attire, she supposes. Having girlfriends might come in handy right now, but how, exactly, do you explain this?

'I am going undercover at a sex club with The Punisher and - my life is fine, why do you ask?'

Is she supposed to wear lingerie with a raincoat like she's seen on TV and in the movies or... This is so stressful. What is HE going to wear? Probably a hooded sweatshirt and jeans because he's a man and they're not expected to be walking sex at all times.

She hopes to hell it will be dark and no one recognizes him. Could you imagine the hell that would break loose? Hoo hoos and dingles flopping all over the place in panic because of the big bad PUNISHER.

She pours herself two fingers of vodka to calm her nerves.

Of course it'll be dark. Fluorescent lighting in a sex club? What is this, Russia? ...was that offensive?

Ugh.

She starts with a garter belt and thigh highs because they're always a winner. A...thong? Okay.

Jesus, is her ass going to be showing? She might have to expose herself in front of these strangers. She is curiously not that worried about exposing herself to Frank. GEE, WHAT COULD THAT BE ABOUT?

Another two fingers of vodka and that's presently all she can handle.

Now, does she wear her tight red dress or ...yes. Red dress it is.

*******

It's dark. Almost too dark. The music is...tasteful. They're sitting at what can only be described as a round booth without a table. Only it's lower to the ground than a typical booth in a restaurant.

Where is she going to put her drink? This was very poor planning on the part of the owner. She drinks it fast and walks the glass back to the bar.

No one is naked yet - good.

When she returns to their seat, he's scanning the club again.

She leans in close so he can hear her, "are we ordering off the 'specialty' menu or waiting until someone else does?"

"Not sure yet."

She's feeling as though they're sticking out like a sore thumb. Everyone is flirting and touching and...older than them. Almost every man or woman has made eye contact with her. So much winking and lip licking. She grabs Frank's hand.

"You okay?"

"Someone might wanna share."

He scans the room and sees this happening. People are starting to, you know, play. With themselves or each other or both.

She sits sideways on his lap before she has a chance to rethink it and puts his hand between her thighs.

He's staring up at her with the question in his eyes.

"We need to blend in, Frank. What if someone else comes over to, you know...with us? Just- act like you're doing something here and I'll, uh, play along..."

He grunts his agreement and moves his hand up the inside of her thigh. Her mouth falls open and she sucks in a breath.

Maybe he missed the part about acting and pretending and instead wants to kill her.

She will die willingly.

She's wet and the air here is most definitely charged.

He's scanning the room again before he looks up at her. He's asking her if this is okay. His eyes questioning, his brows knit, and his mouth soft instead of a stern, hard line.

So far, she isn't complaining.

She parts her legs allowing him access and he takes it.

He takes it.

If aliens landed and we accepted them as our Gods she would be less surprised by that (only a matter of time) than what is happening between her legs.

To clarify, Frank Castle (known in some circles as The Punisher) is fondling her in a sex club.

Started in rural Vermont and now she's here.

*******

She thought they were pretending - making this look real so they didn't stand out. They probably kick you out for not participating - is what she tells herself to justify her spread legs.

Fuck it, she's a grown woman and doesn't need to justify any of this.

But he's- this is- she takes a steadying breath and feels like she's 17 again. Grant it, she would not have been in this sort of establishment when she was 17.

He breaks her from her frantic thoughts as his fingers go to work over her underwear - he's teasing, barely touching, barely applying pressure. It makes her moan with frustration. He smirks, but he's not taking his eyes off the men and women losing more of their clothes and grinding all over each other.

He applies some more pressure because if they have to do this, he'll give her exactly what she wants and enjoy every god damn minute of it.

He wets his lips and has to stifle his own moan as he feels her wetness soaking the satin underwear. She hears him though and it does inexplicable things to her insides. He swallows hard and closes his eyes, but only for the briefest of moments.

When he opens his eyes, she's staring down at him, eyes glazed and heavy, lips parted and panting. His body is betraying him, cock growing in his pants.

He can't help himself. He presses his lips to hers and she moans into his mouth. He tilts his head up more to nip at her lips some more as he moves her underwear aside and pushes his middle finger inside her slowly, she opens her legs more for him and everything else drops away. In this moment, he's only a man, praying at her altar.

"God, please...Frank." She's rocking herself against his hand and his thumb ghosts over her clit.

He clears his throat and scans the room - no one has left. Not one person has made a move to order off a "special" menu or go to an upper or lower level. They have already checked the bathrooms and absolutely everything seems normal.

Besides all the naked people bumpin' and grindin'.

*******

"What do you want?" His voice is like silk over gravel.

He pulls one strap of her dress down, exposing her breast. He sucks her puckered nipple into his mouth, scraping it gently with his teeth before releasing it. The sound that escapes her makes him want more. Oh, so much more.

The wanton lust coloring his features is enough to send her over the edge. She's never seen him like this and wants more. Oh, so much more.

He pulls his finger out and slowly glides it back in, while nipping and teasing her very hard exposed nipple.

He murmurs against her skin, "tell me what you want."

She doesn't know. She doesn't know what she wants. A part of her is willing to beg him to fuck her - to throw her down and pound into her until she can't take him anymore. On the other hand, it's them and it could possibly be the worst thing either of them have ever done ...and they have both killed people.

He takes her silence as a sign to pull away and she quickly protests, but before she can tell him what she truly wants, he sees it.

A couple is being lead away by a man in a very expensive looking suit. He's on his feet and following them, Karen on his heels, bare breast and all.

The couple is led down a hallway and brought to one of many red doors. Frank turns to make sure she's close and wordlessly fixes Karen's dress so she's no longer hanging out.

After the man in the suit has shut the door behind them he asks if Frank and Karen would like a room of their own.

"Uh-" Karen starts.

"We were looking for something a bit more... special." Frank finishes.

The man in the suit nods with understanding and offers them a group suite upstairs.

"You don't have anything...downstairs?" Frank leads.

"Sir, I'm afraid all we have downstairs are extra chairs and our alcohol supply. You can see that if you like?"

Frank is glaring at the man. Karen is overwhelmed and tells suit man they will take one of the rooms. They need to take a breath and regroup.

Frank looks apprehensive but he eventually agrees.

*******

Once inside, they are sitting on the bed and he appears calm but she knows better.

"I'm not wrong. It's happened here. There were kids..."

"You're sure it wasn't a different club?"

He downright glares at her. "Okay!" She holds her hand up in surrender. "Okay. Well, it doesn't seem like there's any shady business going on here besides, you know, a lot of sex." She tucks her hair behind her ears.

"I'm aware, thanks." It's playful and sarcastic, not biting.

"Not that sex is shady..." She rolls her eyes. "So, I guess we should leave?"

But she doesn't make it very far. He grabs her arm as she's trying to leave the bed.

"If you wanna leave, I won't stop you... But I don't want to leave unless you're- unless we... Go somewhere else."

See, if you don't know Frank - if you don't GET Frank, this sounds ...not at all like an invitation for sex. But she knows Frank.

She's stunned. Outright shocked. Remember the aliens?

She thought those few moments out in the club, at the booth were a fluke. Something she would relive and crave or cringe about.

But his stare is smoldering and she did wear a damn garter belt.

She stands slowly and shimmies out of her dress as he watches. He's looking very pleased with himself as he takes her all in and she's feeling very pleased with herself because the effect she's having on him is unlike any she ever fantasized about.

They're both going to crash and burn after this, but fuck it (or butt-fuck it - whichever you prefer)

She climbs onto the bed and on top of him and he pulls her to him for a searing kiss that bruises both of them. It's like a dam being broken or flood gates being opened. And she's not just talking about the situation in her underwear, wink wink.

He's kissing her hard and fast and NOW she gets it. NOW she knows about all that passion everyone is always talking about. If she thought she had it before with anyone else she was dead wrong.

Her whole body is on fire.

She pulls his shirt over his head, careful of the fresh stitches because there are always fresh stitches and he makes quick work of his pants.

She giggles, "commando?"

"Well yeah, it is a sex club."

She takes stock of the scars and fresh wounds, like a battleground made of flesh. He's a work of art and don't try to tell her differently.

He reaches for her again and she goes to him quickly, not wanting either of them to change their minds.

"What do you want?" She parrots his words coyly.

It makes him smile. "Question is, ma'am, what don't I want?"

The possibilities are endless, but right now in this room she knows what they both want and need so she positions herself over him, taking him into her hand. He mutters something that sounds like 'God, yes' but her heart is pounding loudly in her ears so she can't be sure.

She sinks down onto him and they both emit noises to rival the sounds bleeding through the walls.

She rests on him, getting used to the feel before she rocks her hips. He sits up more and pulls her close so their foreheads meet.

"Don't stop, Karen." He's pleading with her.

Her name throws her off rhythm, but he guides her back with a snap of his hips.

They keep a slow and steady pace, building tension and enjoying the feel of friction. She doesn't want this to be over too soon or possibly ever.

He would give anything to never have to go back to their world.

*******

They spend their time in that dimly lit, mostly red room and when they leave, everything and nothing changes.

He doesn't avoid her. He can't. She's prone to being shot at and she's the only person alive he cares about.

She doesn't act as though it never happened. She can't. She relives it with every heated stare.

If anything, their respect for each other has grown.

*******

They do go back to the club, but this time they get in through a window in the basement and find chairs and boxes of various liquor bottles. No underage abused minors. She's so relieved she could collapse.

The look he gives her leaves no room for interpretation and she situates herself on top of a stack of boxes filled with vodka. Her skirt hikes up as she spreads her legs for him.

He's between her legs with his pants around his ankles holding onto her hips to keep her in place. She'll have small bruises there that she'll cherish.

The pace he sets has her heart racing and the bottles threatening to break against each other. It's a comfort to know that no one can hear them over the music and moaning coming from above them.

She pulls her shirt open, popping off some of the buttons and he pulls down the cups of her bra to massage (grab) her breasts with his callused hands.

Nothing about this is elegant or soft.

Everything fades around them and they're only living for this - a stolen moment in a too dark and too damp basement.

*******

He sleeps better and laughs more. He's no dummy. He knows it's her, but he will not be the man that ruins her, dulls her shine.

She lies awake at night needing and wanting a man that will never truly be her own. He belongs to the darkest corners of this city. He belongs to his twisted and haunting memories.

They will go on like this for as long as either one of them can take.

She will not fall for another.

To him, she will be a tear that hangs inside his soul forever.

They continue to keep each other alive, sacrificing all else.

They do not go on dates or hold hands. There is an occasional movie and takeout on her couch, but she thinks that would happen even if they hadn't seen each other naked.

The part where his tongue explores her most intimate areas may not have happened so she's grateful they've seen each other naked.

They are somewhere between friends and perfect for each other, but try telling them that.


End file.
